


here we go, life's waiting to begin

by Hazel75



Series: The Adventure [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Coulson tries to support Skye, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fixing Lola, He kind of screws it up, Light Dom/sub, Mild Kink, Post-Episode: s02e10 What They Become, Prompt Fill, Skoulson RomFest 2k15, Skye dealing with her new abilities, Skye is smarter than Phil, skoulsonfest2k15
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 15:27:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3214190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hazel75/pseuds/Hazel75
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skye doesn't slip, she resolves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	here we go, life's waiting to begin

**Author's Note:**

> Title from The Adventure from Angels and Airwaves. 
> 
> If you notice that this is not full of typos the way my stuff is usually, you can thank Persiflage who beta'd (is that a word?) this for me. Huge thanks!

He hopes he hasn't left this too long.  Everyday he can see her slipping away a bit more -- except slipping is the wrong word -- Skye doesn't slip, she resolves.  And he's afraid, he's afraid, he's afraid. 

 

* * *

 

A few days ago he'd asked Mack to meet him in the garage where Lola had been left since their arrival.  Coulson spends a long moment staring at the battered car, feeling he's shown disloyalty to a good and faithful servant.    

 

"I know you've been itching to get Lola back in working condition, waiting for the word from me.  Well, consider the word given.  Let me know what you need, and I'll do whatever it takes to make it happen." 

 

Mack gives him a tight smile.  "Yes, sir.  Been ready to start on this for months." 

 

He wouldn't say things have been strained with Mack since San Juan, but Coulson knows there's more going on than Mack shows to him.  If he's talking, though, it's not to Coulson.  He can see that he's pleased Mack with his request as he had figured he would be.  Coulson wonders if Mack sees this as a some kind of payment for what he had gone through in the underground city.  Or maybe he thinks Coulson's rewarding him with the gift of his trust.  If so, he's making a liar out of Coulson, because, while it would have been nice if Coulson were motivated by a desire to help Mack, giving him such credit is undeserved, false.  He's not giving Mack a reward, however well-earned.  His motivations are desperation and guilt. 

 

Coulson puts his hands in his pockets and turns to look at Mack. 

 

"And, Mack, unless something else is life or death, make this your top priority.  She needs to be working soon." 

 

Mack nods like he understands, but Coulson doesn't see how he could. 

 

As he leaves the garage, he feels guilty, like a fraud. 

 

* * *

The day before he had gone to see Mack, he'd visited with Skye.  He had discovered that she'd taken to spending the night on the rooftop of the Playground.  She says it feels less confining.  Being inside in the dark is too much, and she doesn't want to seem like a five year old sleeping with the lights on in her quarters.  Being outside with only the sky above her helps.  Out here, she says she doesn't dream of being trapped in that shell, unable to move, unable to see, unable to breathe.  That particular nightmare scares her the worst, not because it's the one that hurts the most, but because it's the one she's most afraid could trigger her.  And more than anything else, she doesn't want to harm anyone. 

 

They're sitting side by side on the rooftop, watching the sun rise. 

 

"I think I need to leave," she tells him. "I can't really learn how to control my gift," her mouth twists on the word, "here.  I'm too afraid I'll hurt someone.  I need to be some place where people aren't, where there's nothing I can destroy."

 

He'd hoped he was wrong, but he'd been afraid this was coming.  May's been trying to work with Skye, to provide her with some tools which might help her deal with her abilities.  But she says Skye either can't or won't tap into her powers and instead is more interested in partitioning off the change she's undergone. 

 

"Do you have a timeline?"

 

She shakes her head.  "Soon.  Before the rainy season comes."  She gives him a wry smile.

 

He turns to look at her.  "You have to know at this point that I'd have given anything that was mine to give to keep this from happening to you." 

 

She returns his look and smiles ruefully, "Yeah, your very sweet, but very stupid, decision to follow me into the city made that obvious.  I'm still kind of mad at you about that."

 

"Why?"

 

"You had to know you couldn't get to me in time, and you're not allowed to sacrifice yourself for a lost cause."

 

"If I couldn't, I at least didn't want you to be alone.  That wasn't a lost cause."

 

"So not like Lola?"  She looks out at the sky again. 

 

He's confused.  "Lola's not a lost cause.  Why would you say that?"

 

She shrugs.  "I figured that was why you'd left her in the garage like that since we got here, why you haven't let Mack touch her." 

 

He's thought about why he's ignored Lola for so long.  Ostensibly, he's used the excuse that a two-seater car that flies is a frivolity in this new, stripped down version of SHIELD.  There are too many more urgent calls on time and money.  And that's a reason, but it's not the reason.  

 

"I don't know, Skye.  It's complicated.  I'm not the man I thought I was.  I'm not Agent Coulson, cool guy, who gets to jet around in a flying car.  That man didn't exist.  I'm an old man who's done terrible things to people.  I don't deserve a car like Lola."

 

She laughs, but it's not a happy sound.  "That is such bullshit," she says in a soft, hard voice.  "What in the hell does that accomplish?  Oh, I get that it can feel good to wallow.  But don't kid yourself that it's penance or atonement.  I spent enough time in Catholic school to know that.  Because you're not actually paying back something you owe, you're just beating yourself up.  Which, Coulson, that's not fair and it doesn't get less cool than that."

 

He hadn't seen that coming.  He's not sure what reaction he expected, but that's not it.  He swallows, trying to formulate a response, but nothing's coming.  And he wonders if Lola's the only thing they were talking about. 

 

 

* * *

 

He'd called May in later to speak to her about taking some leave.  May's still more than kind of mad at him and this conversation doesn't help.

 

"Phil, you may have forgotten that you're Director of SHIELD, but I haven't.  You're not in a position to make any one person more important than that, even if that person is Skye," she says hushed and furious. 

 

He raises his eyebrows.  "Of course, I am.  I am in precisely that position.  As far as I can tell, I'm still the one who makes decisions about myself around here." 

 

 "What is going on with you?  I'm not heartless; I know what's she been through, and I'm sympathetic to Skye.  But you, your priorities have changed ever since you brought her on board.  Sometime I wonder who you are anymore."

 

He thinks May knows the answer to that question.  But May follows orders.  He used to, he can remember the Phil Coulson who was a good soldier, who followed protocol and trusted the system.  That Phil Coulson lived in a safer world, one that was firm beneath his feet.  Lately, he's felt untethered.  He's impulsive -- protocol and institutional responsibility don't have the hold on him that they once did. 

 

He looks at her, and, although she's very good at schooling her expression, he can still see concern and confusion and fear in the way she holds her eyes and tightens her mouth.  Coulson realizes he's being unfair to May; orders don't define her.  But as well as she once knew him, he's not sure she does anymore.  At least, not like she did.  She's afraid for him, but it's not her responsibility to protect him from his choices. 

 

"May, I care about you, and I care about your opinion.  But I'm not Nick Fury; I can't discern the greater good and act accordingly.  If Skye needs me -- and that's a giant if -- I want to be placed so that I can be there.  I've made promises I couldn't keep -- about Ward, about the city, about her father.  She deserves a promise that I can keep.  As for the rest and I don't mean this disrespectfully, this conversation is over.  You don't have to agree with my decisions.  I can live with that, and you can too."

 

She turns to leave the room.  "I just hope you know what you're doing."

 

He doesn't really, but that doesn't bother him like it might have once.

 

* * *

 

He's been trying not to crowd her, to leave her room to determine her own path without the interference of his wishes.  And Skye's a very private person, and she wouldn't appreciate him smothering her with concern.  She knows where to find him, and that he's there.  But he can't keep himself away for too long; he feels like a deadline's approaching only no one's seen fit to inform him when it is.  So he's searched her out and found her on the rooftop again.  He sits down next to her on a blanket she's spread out close to the edge where they can look out over the ledge that runs around the roof. He's taken off his shoes and socks, matching Skye; it feels more companionable that way. 

 

Her voice is calm, unhurried as she speaks.  "When I was younger, I went through a period when I thought I had a fear of heights.  But I figured it out eventually, it wasn't really being up high that I was afraid of, not really.  What I was afraid of was that I would lean too far over the edge.  On purpose.  It's weird; I wasn't suicidal.  But still I was afraid I would jump.  That's kind of how I feel lately.  I don't want to touch it, to use it.  I'm scared of what will happen if I do -- except that it won't be me falling, I'll be pushing others off the ledge, which is even worse.  But it's there all the time.  So I've got to learn how use it, how to control it, before I turn into a disaster.  So, soon, I've got to get out of here really, really soon."

 

"What's your plan, Skye?"

 

"Find some place isolated.  Try to contact my dad.  See if he can help.  It's not really much of a plan."  She shrugs a shoulder, her face melancholy. 

 

He turns to look at her.  "I was going to make this a surprise, but now what the hell.  I've asked Mack to repair Lola.  I thought about what you said, and, no surprise, you were right.  It was self-flagellation.  But if you can talk about something not being fair to a car without sounding crazy, it wasn't fair to Lola."

 

She turns her head to face him, arms around her knees.  "Well, if you're crazy, you're not the only one.  I've been feeling terrible about that car.  It was where you asked me to work with SHIELD.  And, then, she saved us in a way that should have been impossible.  I hated seeing her so broken and, I don't know, left alone.  I even thought about trying to convince Mack to fix her without you but didn't think he would go for it." 

 

She looks away before continuing.  "And then after this crap happened to me, I found myself wondering if I was like Lola.  I even found myself wondering if you didn't want to fix her because she'd never really be the same after what she went through, and you just didn't want her anymore but weren't ready to scrap her, I don't know, for sentimental reasons.  And if that was how you felt about Lola, maybe that was what you felt about me.  I'm broken, some kind of freak, so maybe it's time for me to head off to the scrap heap."  

 

He feels sick that she could think of herself that way.  "What in the hell are you talking about?  First off, you are immensely more important to me than a _car_."

 

She shrugs, resting her chin on her knees.  "You haven't tried to convince me not to leave," she says in a very small, plaintive voice.

 

"I don't want you to go.  But I was trying to respect your decisions.  The last thing I want to do is manipulate you.  You've had so many people trying to force their intentions on you that was the last thing I wanted to do.  What _you_ want matters to me.  And you matter.  You matter to me.  How can you not know that?"

 

 "You're kind.  I know you would never _ask_ me to go.  But, let's face it, I'm the opposite of an asset to SHIELD right now.  I'm a liability, a danger.  And you're the director; you have to think of these things.  It's your job."  

  

"I am so angry with you right now.  And I am furious at myself.  Maybe that is the way I'm supposed to think.  But I don't, especially about you."  He sighs.  "When you go, if you go, if you can wait this long, I want you to take Lola."

 

"What?  Are you kidding?  Because if you're kidding this is a really, bad, mean joke." 

 

He rolls his eyes.  "Of course, I'm not kidding.  But let me finish."

 

She looks over at him as though waiting for the other shoe to drop.    

 

"I want you to take Lola, and I'd like you to take me.  You can take Lola regardless; that's not a condition.  But I'd like to go with you.  At least, until you find your father."    

 

She turns away from him, and she's very still and very quiet.  He wants to reach out and turn her around, but he doesn't want to press.  Not being able to see her face, to know what she's thinking, terrifies him.  So he sits there and waits and expects the worst.  But then she wraps her arms around herself, pressing her fingertips into her ribcage so hard he can see indentations, and her shoulders start shaking. 

 

He finally gets it.  While he's been thinking he was giving Skye time and space to process what she's been through, she's just been alone.  His being there wasn't enough.

 

He reaches out and pulls her to him, enfolding her in his arms and holding her against his chest.  She keeps saying _I'm sorry_ as though she has anything to apologize for.  As though she's done anything wrong at any point.  He threads his fingers through her hair and it makes his heart want to break again that she cries so quietly. 

 

He holds her firmly to him, chin over her head, as he strokes her back.  He'd known she was keeping a tight rein on herself, but he hadn't realized what it was costing her. 

 

"Please don't apologize.  I'm the one who should be sorry, and I am. You're not alone.  I'm here.  I'm here however you want me to be.  I'm here."

 

Skye is strong; it's one of those undeniable truths.  He doesn't doubt that she could make it through all this without anyone else, but just because her shoulders are strong enough to carry the weight of the world, that doesn't mean she should have to. 

 

Her shaking finally stops and her breathing become calm.  Her arms uncoil and she holds him back tightly. 

 

"I'm sorry, I didn't know that was coming.  If I had, I'd have, I don't know..." she says into his shirt.

 

"You'd have done it somewhere else, where no one could see.  You don't have to do that.  I'm sorry I made you feel like you were on your own with this."  He presses his mouth to the top of her head. 

 

He lets her go as she pulls back, wiping her eyes and nose with her hand.  "God, I've gotten snot and makeup all over you shirt.  I'm sorry.  You must think I'm a wreck." 

 

"No, I think you're human."

 

"And, Coulson, I can't ask you to come with me.  You have too many responsibilities, and I don't know how long this could take."

 

"You're not asking; I'm offering.  Like I should have been doing all along.  May's capable of taking the reins for a while, and I'll be a phone call away.  Besides I want to go with you." 

 

"Why? Because, you know, you don't owe me anything.  None of this is your fault, and I'm not your responsibility.  I don't want you doing things for me out of some, I don't know, sense of guilt."   

 

He hesitates; he has so much guilt where Skye is concerned, guilt for how he's failed her and guilt for how SHIELD has failed her.  In that moment, disappointment fills her face.

 

"Yeah, that's what I thought.  You know what?  I think you should leave." 

 

She stands and points to the door. 

 

He speaks in a low voice.  "I won't lie.  Ever since you joined up, you've had to endure one horror after another.  And I couldn't stop any of it, and some of it was my fault.  So, yes, I do have guilt where you're concerned.  But that's not where it begins or end.  It begins and ends with wonder.  Wonder at the person you were, the person you are and the person you will be.  It's wrong and it's inappropriate, but I want to be there for all of it."

 

Skye blinks and looks at him, confused.  "How did we go from wonder to wrong and inappropriate?  Have you done something?  Have I?" 

 

He swallows and gives her a bitter smile, more of a grimace really that a smile.  "It's not what I've done; it's what I want to do." 

 

"Oh, shut up, Coulson, just shut up.  I thought wisdom was supposed to come with age.  But, God, you're really stupid.  No wonder my father hates you." 

 

She holds out her hand to him, and, when he takes it, she pulls him up.  Reluctantly he lets himself be pulled forward until they're standing toe to toe. 

 

"So what have you wanted to do? Something like this?"  She reaches a hand to his face and cups his jaw, rubbing her thumb to his cheek.  "Or maybe like this?"  He's mesmerized as she brings her other hand to his neck, running her nails through the short hair there, and his mind is racing, unable to comprehend that this might be something other than a game.  But that can't be right because Skye doesn't play games.  "Or this?"  And she pulls his head down to her until he can feel her warm breath on his lips.  "Or even this?"  With that she closes the distance and presses her lips to his, and he snaps out of the near-trance he's been in since she started, moving his lips against hers. 

 

He lifts his mouth from hers and searches her face.  As much as he'd like to continue (and he definitely wants to continue), he needs to know this isn't a mistake.  Her face is solemn, so solemn, and he asks, "Are you sure?  Is this really what you want?"  But his question even is dishonest because he's afraid: what he can't wrap his mind around is that she might want this with _him_.    

 

She hears the question behind the question, nodding and saying, "Coulson, I want _you_."  With that, he lowers his mouth to hers again, this time deepening the kiss, and her mouth opens under his, allowing him to press his tongue against hers.  He's been a fool, he's always been a fool because this is neither wrong nor inappropriate.  But then Skye has always been wiser than he. 

 

He moves his lips to her jaw, then down the side of her neck, nipping and licking along the tendon there before pushing her shirt aside to press wet kisses her collarbone.  She takes his hand and moves it to the front of her shirt, and he unbuttons her shirt, taking a moment to palm to her left breast and then moving to the scars on her abdomen, feeling a pang of guilt which passes quickly as she presses herself to his hand.

 

She grasps the back of his head as he bends to place his mouth to her right breast, sucking gently and wetting the fabric of her bra, and she moans his name.  He reaches under her shirt to unclasp her bra before sliding it and her shirt off her shoulders and moving his mouth to her other breast.  She takes his hand, twining her fingers with his and moves it to the waistband of her pants, murmuring _please_.  He unbuttons her pants, sliding them down her legs and she moves to push her underwear down, stepping out of them as he brings his mouth back to hers.   

 

He slips his hand between her legs and finds her wet.  He groans into her mouth and sucks on her tongue as he moves first one finger, then two, into her.  He moves his fingers in and out, slowly, crooking his fingers forward.  She shifts her hips, wanting more.

 

He gets down on his knees in front of her, hands on her hips looking up at her, and thinks he could be her acolyte.  He moves his hands to spread her legs further apart.  She runs her fingers through his hair and stares at him, mouth slightly open.  He kisses the inside of her thighs reverently before bringing his mouth to her wetness, spreading her open with his fingers.  The angle is a little strange, but he presses his tongue flat against her before moving to suck on her clitoris.  Her breath hitches, and he pushes his tongue inside of her, tasting her.  Replacing his tongue with his fingers again, he moves back to her clitoris, alternating sucks with quick flicks of his tongue.  He works his fingers and continues the movements of his mouth and tongue.  Her breath is coming in gasps as she comes, clenching around his fingers.  He rests against her thigh, head bowed, breathing in the scent of her, as she comes down.   

 

After a long moment, she kneels in front of him, saying, "Here, let me," before removing his shirt.  Her eyes widen as she takes in the scar on his chest.  He can understand; it still surprises him sometimes when he catches sight of it in the mirror. 

 

"Can I?" she asks, waiting for his nod, before bringing her fingers to the ridged flesh, tracing it with no more pressure than a butterfly wing before pressing soft kisses down the length of it.  He shudders against her, breathing her name.

 

" _Skye, Skye, Skye_." 

 

She keeps her lips on his chest, pressing openmouthed kisses to his nipples, as she unfastens his pants and slides her hand into his boxers, taking him in her hand.  Her hand is slightly cool against his hard, hot flesh and he thrusts in her hand, groaning as she tightens her hand around him.  He pushes at her shoulder and she lies down on the blanket beneath them.  He finishes removing his pants and underwear before moving between her legs.

 

"Is this okay?  Do we need anything?" he asks, gazing at her face, feeling wonderment at the lust in her eyes as she looks at him.  She shakes her head no and looks at him expectantly, pulling him down to her with eager hands.  He rubs the head of his cock against her before pushing in.  He moves slowly, slowly, wanting to savor the sensation of her around him.  It feels so good, and he has to take a moment to gather himself.  But then she shifts under him, saying, "Come on, Coulson, move," impatient, and all thoughts of taking this slow are driven out of his mind. 

 

He moves in and out of her, almost pulling out before pushing back into her.  She wraps her legs around his back, digging her heels into his ass, and he stares at her face.  Her eyes are squeezed shut, and her mouth opens and closes and she's trying.  Bringing one hand between their bodies and holding himself up with the other, he presses his thumb to her clit as he thrusts.  He changes the rhythm of his movements, moving faster now as her moans turn into gasps.  Hands against his chest, she tightens around him, shaking.  One, two, three more movements of his hips, and he comes, emptying himself into her before collapsing on top of her, saying her name over and over again against her shoulder. 

 

Afterwards, he rolls over onto his back and gathers her to his chest, wrapping the blanket around them.  He rubs his hand over the skin of her hip and lowers his eyes to hers. 

 

He says, "I'm not sure I can remember the last time I did this." 

 

"What?  Had really hot sex?" she asks, quirking an eyebrow and running her hand up and down his arm. 

 

"Well, that too.  But, no, I was thinking made love out under the stars." 

 

"It's kind of romantic."

 

"Yes, it helped you seduce me," he says, knowing he never needed to be seduced but uttering the lie to amuse her.  It works, and she smiles. 

 

"It wasn't very hard."

 

"No, I suppose it wasn't."  It never will be, he thinks.

 

Drawing shapes in his chest hair, she presses a kiss to his side.  "So do you think that when we're on the road, we could, I don't know, grab a couple of sleeping bags and do this sometimes."

 

He thinks to himself that there's probably nothing he'd deny this girl, no, this woman he's holding.  He shrugs, "Sure, although you better be planning on sharing a sleeping bag."

 

She stretches up and smiles against his lips.  "Of course, how else would we stay warm?" 

 

"So you are going to let me tag along then?" 

 

"Yeah, I mean, I can do it alone, but I don't want to.  And the thought of you being with me makes it seem a little less like something I _have_ to do and more something I _want_ to do." 

 

She sighs against him.  "So how do you want to handle this?" she asks, gesturing between the two of them.  "Before we leave, I mean." 

He moves his arm beneath his head, propping it up a bit.  He almost says he'll leave it up to her, but he's done too much of that lately, leaving things up to her. 

 

"I don't want to hide this.  I imagine everyone's already going to think something's going on when we ride off into the sunset in Lola for destinations unknown."  She runs her hand down his side and he shivers. "Let's go ahead and give them something to talk about."

 

"Good.  Because, well, this is good, but also I think it's helped with the other." 

 

"You mean with your powers?"

 

"Yeah, the pull isn't as strong." 

 

"Well, isn't that serendipitous?  And what a great excuse to get out of some of my more tedious duties.  I can hear Billy now.  'I'm sorry but the Director can't see you right now.  He's in an important meeting fucking his agent to keep her from bringing the base down on our heads.'"  

 

"Coulson, if you even think about doing that..."  She pinches his nipple a little rougher than necessary, and he shudders. "Oh, you liked that?"  She does it again, and, to his amazement, he feels his body reacting.  She notices, too.  "Well, that's a neat trick, Phil," she says, drawing out his name, and he bites his lip, stifling a moan when she says his name like that.  

 

She straddles him, lowering her mouth to his other nipple, running her tongue over it before scraping her teeth over it.

 

"Oh, God, Skye."  This time he can't stop himself from speaking, and he moves his hands to grab her thighs.

 

She sits up and slaps his hands away, eyes zeroed in on his.  "No.  Hands down."  He does as she says and wonders how far she'll take this, knowing he'll go as far as she wants.     

 

She bends over again, moving her teeth along his collarbone, then running her tongue where her teeth had been.  She repeats this process, on the other side, and he shivers.  She moves down, dragging her tongue down his scar before moving to his nipple again, this time biting one lightly with her sharp teeth while dragging her nails with a touch of pressure over the other.  She does this several times, moving back and forth, while he groans and twitches beneath her.  He thinks _My name is Phil Coulson, and my lover undid me the first night we fucked._  

 

Finally, she moves on, and he is relieved he didn't embarrass himself.  Much.  She licks and nips her way down his stomach, running her nails through and then pulling lightly on the hair that begins thickening below his navel.  He inhales sharply and bucks upward, saying, "What are you doing, Skye?" and his voice comes out thick with lust, but much more strained than he would have liked.  She looks up at him through her eyelashes with a smile he's never seen before on her face.  He's a little apprehensive for his dick, but, when she reaches it, she holds it and gives it a few firm strokes before lowering her mouth with only the barest hint of teeth, still looking up into his eyes.  He thinks he'll be coming soon if she repeats that action much more, and she must figure that herself because she swirls her tongue across the tip before releasing him from her hand and mouth. 

 

She pulls herself up his body, dragging her breasts up his chest, before bringing her mouth to his.  Apparently, moving his tongue is not against the rules, because she doesn't reprimand him when he sweeps his tongue through her mouth, tasting her deeply.  

 

She moves his legs together with her own, and lays her body atop his, opening her legs just enough and moving to take his cock inside her.  Propping herself up with her arms and moving with small, careful movements against him, she looks at him and says, "You can touch me now."   

 

He moves his hands to grip her ass and has to restrain himself to match the rhythm that she has set.  He's glad he does because the feeling of her body on top and around him, the slow, patient movements and the clenching of her inner muscles which she has added like a syncopated beat to their cadence are making his whole person tingle.  She speeds up a touch, and he feels his orgasm starting, as though it's starting at his toes and rippling through him.  Skye holds his gaze, as he feels her take a sharp inhale, before tightening around him convulsively.

 

He brings his arms up to her back, gripping her tightly to him as she presses soft, gentle kisses to his neck and shoulders.  When his breathing is more steady, he loosens his grip and stares at her with awe. 

 

"Um, wow, that was intense." 

 

He thinks that's an understatement as he pulls her up so that he can press kisses to her face.  He clears his throat and says, "This is going to sound corny, but you are the most amazing woman I've ever met.  And I think you've wrung me dry.  Wake me up in two days."

 

"Two days?  How about two hours?"

 

He chuckles fondly into her hair.  "Yeah, that's not happening." 

 

He reaches yawning to wrap the blanket around the two of them again.  "Now, sleep.  Old men must have sleep."

 

She settles in against his side, muttering, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, old man, my ass" and lays her arm across his chest, curling her fingers into a loose fist. 

 

He listens to her breathe until he feels himself drifting off to sleep, unafraid for the first time in a while.


End file.
